


A Dangerous Game

by blackrider11



Series: There Are No Happy Endings [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-24 19:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrider11/pseuds/blackrider11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a dangerous game they were playing and it could very well end in one or either of their deaths.</p><p>(Author's writing rating: 4.5/5)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dangerous Game

The girl intrigued him. That would be what he told himself later. She spoke her mind, and he could see the intellect and something else that shone in those dark winter eyes. It was refreshing; it had been so long since he had an intelligent conversation with someone. He would have never guessed that it would come from a scrawny half-grown girl. He had known that she was a noble, as soon as she had said “My lord” instead of “Mi’lord”. He called her on it and the lie she had used, and it was a lie, was clever. So clever, that if it had been any other noble, she might have fooled him. He surprised even himself when he forgave her for it.

He had only meant to prevent the girl from being made a raped by the fools who guarded this place. Despite rumours, not even he was that cruel. It had been an unexpected blessing that she sharp for someone so young. He had seen her examine the walls as if she was trying to find a weakness in them. He watched her reactions from the corner of his eye as she took in conversation at the council meetings. The small smirk, which had appeared on her face when one of his advisors had said something particularly stupid, had interested him. So he engaged in conversation with her. Only to find her wit was a match that a common man would envy. It became a game.

And he was wiser and more experienced, he held the advantage. So he handicapped himself. He had told her subtly that he was not fooled by her act. And she had responded. He wanted to know what house would raise such a wild girl. Once he asked that question it took him only few moments to know the answer. And he had one conclusion.

That this was a dangerous game they were playing.


	2. If Only

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for a POV from Arya...

If it had been any other noble house or even if she had been a peasant, he might have adopted her. She was smart, frighteningly so. She would have made a fine advisor to anyone she deemed worthy. The girl, reminded him so much of her. It was a nostalgic feeling and he had… indulged. He shouldn’t have, but his wife, Gods bless, would have loved her.

If they had had a child like her, with his smarts and her spirit and wit, he took a long drink before that line of thought could go any further. Gods, be cruel, if only he could have adopted her.

And he would have despite the questions it would have raised or the protests from his daughter. In fact, he mused, it probably would have been good for her to have some female competition. If only his wife had lived, if only… no best not go down that road of thought. There were no ifs or maybes just the cold hard truth. His wife was dead from childbirth, he was off to kill the girl’s brother, and the girl would forever hate him.

He’d either have to kill her or break her soon. He didn’t want to do either, but if he couldn’t break her, she’d be back to kill his family, he could see it in her eyes. Right now, she was dangerous but not stupid, but once he had finished with her brother. Well, their house had chosen their symbol of a direwolf well. For both of them, packs and prides were important. He hated his son but if someone had killed Tyrion, he’d extract a full measure of justice. If someone had gone in, thoroughly thought out, and then purposefully murdered his wife, there would have been no mountain, no amount of water, no earth or sky that would have stopped him from hunting down and killing that person’s entire line and all their friends. The girl and he were alike in that way. Under the right circumstances she would have been magnificent.

He looked contemplatively into the fire. He would have to kill her after all, she’d never break. Bide her time maybe but he’d never tame her wild spirit. He looked walked to the window and looked out onto the moonlit fields. There, he decided. He’d kill her when he got back from this journey. It would give her a chance, one chance, just one to run. His mind was screaming at him that shouldn’t. But his heart, the small part where his wife still resides swayed him and told him just this once, just one more time for the sake of her memory. He would. He sighed heavily feeling the true weight of his years for the first time since his wife had died. He wished for a little more time to pretend that he was just an old lord who had found companionship with a girl. But the moon was setting and harsh reality would rise with the sun.

If only fate had not put them on two different sides. If only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been asked to do one where Arya is born as Tywin's child. It sounds awesome but I have no idea where the heck it would go. If you have ideas feel free to contact me on here or FF.net, I'm more than willing to take ideas and input and will credit accordingly.


	3. Legacy

  
_"When have you ever done something that wasn't in your interest but solely in the interest of the family?"_

How _dare_ he? How dare he question his dedication to the family? He who reminded him so much of his _own_ father, the worthless man who fell over dead drunk on his way to visit a _whore_. It was easier to ask what he hadn't sacrificed for the legacy of his family. He had been forced to watch his father drive their family name into the ground. So it fell to him to save the Lannister name, to make up for _his father's folly._ He had to be smarter, harsher, and hard working to claw their name out of the mud.

The day he became the hand of the king was done through brutality and the king respected that. He had been recognized at the young age of twenty. And then Aerys had betrayed him, and he returned the favor because _his family name called for it_. He had slaved and lived his entire life to raise the esteem of his family. And now, he had to fight to preserve it against the incompetent fools called his children. And now he'd been questioned by the one he could not wish dead more. He would never tell him that he had sacrificed the family name exactly twice. No more, no less.

The first was Joanna, he had turned down a perfectly good marriage to a northerner to marry his cousin because, by the Seven, he loved her. He had never loved anyone else since, he had never so much as looked at anyone else, and he had never felt the semblance of joy since she had died. Except once, that was the second time.

Arya Stark, the second time he was selfish. It was a shame, if there had been a slightly different choices in marriage, she might have been his niece. Might have, could been, he was becoming an old man. Too old, too soon. He had to stop thinking about her, he had to stop worrying about her. He had gotten a raven from Casterly Rock detailing that the girl had vanished. He wasn't surprised; he had suspected that she would grab the opportunity with both hands. Pity his children had neither the talent nor the patience that girl had. She had made an impression on him, enough so that he followed whispers of her journeys. Last he heard, she had managed to get passage to Braavos, and he hoped for her sake she never came back. He had made his mark on her, just like she had made on him. He didn't trust his children to keep the Lannister name above water, but he knew that whether that girl realized it or not. Part of his name, his influence, would live on in her. Perhaps not all was for naught or perhaps in time although it be not in name but in principle, his values would live on. Yes, he thought, taking his last sip of wine. I will entrust it to them. The future. And if the Gods be good, he would live to see her one last time. Perhaps she would kill him, perhaps that would be his downfall when he stays his hand out of one last selfish act. His name would rise again; his legacy would fall not to his children, but his grand-children and one single unrelated young brilliant wild girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Less Arya than I would like, but this is the end of Tywin's POV should I ever continue from here on.


	4. Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Endings are seldom a happy thing.

It's been ten years since you were last here, nine since you had boarded a ship to Braavos. The passing years have been harsh on you but good too. No longer are you the scrawny little Arya Underfoot. Gone was the reckless, foolish, barely trained little girl, replaced now with a woman who bestowed death upon the battlefield.

You had proven yourself skilled enough that the Dothraki had gifted you a ridiculous name. To have earned such a name was an honour, but the problem lay within the fact that it was ridiculously long when translated. They had taken to calling you the equivalent to "She-Who-Kills-With-Deadly-Grace-Of-Large-Cat" which was a bit of a mouthful in your native language. But you wasn't going to complain, it was quite a bit better than the first one they gave you, Daenerys, after getting you to promise not to do anything to retaliate, had offered you the least insulting translation back when you had first joined. Apparently, they didn't appreciate that you didn't treat their Khaleesi with the proper respect. They respect you now, and your reputation among them is well earned.

You move and the bodies seem to fall around you. It took five years of training in Braavos but you now understand why your father called Syrio a dancing master. An additional three years under the No-Face men. Now here you are, two days ride from Kings Landing. And as you gaze across the plain, you can't decide if it's fortune or just your family luck following you around because the army opposite can only be led by a single man, Tywin Lannister.

You meet him on the battlefield. Among all the bodies, all the people you end up meeting him. He's recognizable but it's clear that the years had not been kind to him, his lines were more defined and he looked far older than the ten years that had passed by. But that didn't make him any less deadly, he moves with calculated grace and purpose, no more muscle is exerted than what was needed. Bodies from both sides surround him, but he's doing the most damage to the army than any single person. Neither Gray Worm, Ser Barristan, or anyone of them with honour will interfere. They know he's yours and you make your way toward him.

His eyes widen in recognition the moment steel meets steel. The surprise doesn't last long and he's good enough that you can't take advantage of it. Soldiers from both sides try to take the each of you by surprise but there seems to be a mutual unspoken agreement between you two as you wait for the other to dispose of their attackers. You trade steel back and forth; it's frustrating matching his experience against your youth, and neither of you can get a proper blow in. Your duel rages on and he's moving more slowly. It's one mistake he makes, one, but that's all you need to take full advantage of it. You disarm him, he's a split second too slow to prevent it. And slam the hilt of the sword into his face causing him to fall backwards.

You level your sword at his throat and ask the question that's been burning in your mind for the last nine years, "Why?"

He meets your eyes, and for just a second it's just you and him. Then he moves, more quickly and smoother than his aging joints should have allowed, and you react. You know the feeling of steel against flesh well and you aim to wound not kill. But when you turn around to view your work, it doesn't matter if you didn't hit or went for the kill. There's a sword through his stomach, one of his soldiers was coming up from behind to attack you, and he protected you. There's a dagger sticking out the side of the soldier's neck, and it's yours. You feel your belt, it's only then that you register that it's gone. He tears out your dagger from the young man's neck and drops it as they both fall. You manage to catch him and lower him to the ground.

"Why?" You repeat. That one worded question was more complicated than he had time for. You ask it anyway but you know that there are so many questions that will go unanswered. He laughs, it's cut short by the blood that begins to spill from his mouth. There is no doubt that talking is becoming more difficult for him as time passes by.

He coughs, it clears his throat enough to say, "Ironic, a Lannister dying for a Stark." You want to shake him, but you don't. It would only serve to make him bleed out faster.

"You don't get to die old man, you have too much to answer for."

"Girl." Ten years and lying on the ground dying, and somehow, he still manages to make you feel like a little girl again. "What do we tell the God of Death?"

"Not today," the response is automatic, it's the words you've lived by since Syrio taught you the dance. Your answer brings a small burst of fire to the fading light in his eyes. It's short lived.

He nods, his eyes closing, his hand clasped around yours, and utters one word, "Go." You don't need to check, you've already lost him.

You weave through his army, what's left of it, cutting through their ranks. They fall quickly, but they're alive. You're avoiding the kill, rendering them unconscious, the more dangerous are crippled, and you know that Daenerys will show mercy to most. Just for today, this is how you will honor his memory. By sparing as many of his Banner-men and family as you can, this will be Tywin Lanninster's last legacy that the world will never know. After all, the Lannisters' aren't the only ones who pay their debts. And above all, the North never forgets.

Later, if you do grieve, it will not be for him. If you do shed a tear or even tears, later they will not be for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have another additional chapter on FF.net which I hate but it's there if you want to read it. this is the replacement for that chapter. This completely disregards the book and future TV series.


End file.
